Thunder and Lightning
by Nytngayl
Summary: A one-shot Snarrylicious on a certain holiday. Rated M for safe reasons.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

><p>Harry stared out of the window, perched neatly on the sill as the rain fell harsh and rapid from the black skies to the pavements and asphalt below. The darkness swallowed nearly every home, except those that remained with their lights on, television screens illuminating living rooms or bedrooms.<p>

The occasional flashes of a bolt brought everything to light before leaving a wake of black darker than before. Thundering booms ricocheted across the walls and floorboards, rattling the window which Harry's head rested on, the gentle shudders echoing onto his cold skin. He drew his knees into his chest.

He sighed, the pain in his chest weighing heavier now that the weather seemed to have gone from bad to worse, just like his life. The cackling of the fireplace behind him all but warmed him, his mind frigid with the thoughts now slowly ebbing into one of his regretted memories.

Slowly, he bent down to the candle which sat right in front of him and had nearly extinguished its light when a rapping came to his door. The Boy-Who-Lived snapped his head up, watering eyes that seemed to mimic the obscene deformed reflection of himself in the window pane riveting in their sockets, wary. The gentle candlelight warmed his cheeks.

Heart rate increased ten-fold when the rapping continued, this time more persistent and warning him if there be another pounding, it was sure to send the door flying off its hinges. Scurring off the sill so fast that the candle nearly toppled over with his flight, Harry sprinted to the door and wrenched it open, cold and dew flooding his senses. His heart stopped, though his breathing came out in short rasps as flashes of white revealed a dark shape on his doorstep.

The tall form was covered in a long, black cloak, the hood obscuring any possible means to tell whoever it was inside of it. However, Harry knew. He knew. And with that, he had to grip the doorframe and door with his hand to not make a jump at the person. Thunder rumbled off in the distance.

"You're- You're here," he managed after a long, silent while, the pitter patter of water louder than usual, his body hunched in a much restrained position.

There was only a grunt in response. Another wait, longer than the first, lightning flashing fiercely in the background to light the darkness in that few moments, and the taller form closed the distance, over the threshold in one step, whipping off his hood, black hair dark as the night around them spilling out of the coverings, and grabbed the boy's face between large hands, mouth hastily covering the young Gryffindor's in a desperate and hungry manner.

Thunder cracked and Harry stumbled back, both appalled and unresisting, his own hands releasing their grip on the door to latch onto the man's cloak, dragging him in by the scruff as they wrestled in their tangled dance of a long awaited kiss. The visitor kicked the door closed, the sound of the storm immediately dimming, once within the home, which welcomed him with its warmth and the embrace of arms which held onto him now, holding him close, lips under his moving wantonly, urgently, needing him so much as he needed the other.

Groaning, he nearly spat at the boy for breaking such pleasurable heeds when Harry pulled away, green eyes glazed with so many emotions. Snape had to fight himself not to be lost within them. And then, the boy spoke, softly, just enough to be heard amongst another clap of thunder.

"You're here."

The curve of Snape's lips caused Harry to smirk, knowing a retort was coming along. Lightning flashed across the elder wizard's handsome features, dark eyes glittering.

"Always stating the obvious, Mr. Potter," but Snape couldn't keep his usual tart tone, finding himself speaking more with affection and gentle murmurings against the boy's cheeks.

Harry caught the change and indulged in it, their hands intertwining near their faces which constantly grazed each other. Harry chuckled, a soft rumble into Snape's neck along with the gentl rumblings outside. "Thank you," he whispered, meaning every syllable. "Thank you."

Snape drew the boy's body into his, arms holding him tight. He had to wait until his voice seemed well enough to work before replying into the mangled mess of hair, smelling the musk of the boy who had the audacity to bewitch him like this.

"Can I trust you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry enveloped his arms into the folds of the rain-soaked cloak, clutching the professor's back, his professor. His white tank and green pajama pants began to drench without his knowing, his mind ever wistful on the man actually being there. "Always," he chuckled, earning a rough huff above his head. "Can.." his voice cracked, a display of light repeating the action across the dark skies. He cleared his voice, trying again. "Can I trust…you?"

Snape stepped back, hands cupping the young Gryffindor's face. Greens locked with obsidians, never wavering. Just like that night. Harry released his hold to place his hands on the ones gracing his cheeks. "I cannot believe you would ask such a question."

Harry simply laughed, a pained smile going across his face. "Well, it is…well, awkward-"

Snape frowned when Harry looked away, sensing something that seemed to disturb the boy. "Are you regretting this-"

"No! Merlin, no!" Harry whipped his head back to Severus', eyes dancing with honesty and candor. "I.. No. It's just…" He stopped once again averting his gaze elsewhere. This seemed to put Snape at edge. "I just can't believe that you're actually…here…with me…like…this…and liking me…?"

Snape sighed, the distance between them aching his bones more than the cold which seeped through his cloak. A deep boom shuddered under their feet. What did he have to do to get it to the stupid boy's head? For starters…

"Perhaps you should offer your visitor a warm bath and warm clothes before getting into a deep, and possibly long, conversation?" Severus put in, brow arching, his hands still plastered on the boy's face. Harry froze, terror clearly etched into his features.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. You're right. You're drenched. Oh my fucking-crap dammit!" Harry yanked himself out of Snape's grasp and immediately shed the man's cloak in one swoop, finally noticing the drips all on the floor from door to the middle area of the living room. The firelight danced to the side of them.

How in the hell did they get that far?

Still cursing himself, he flung the cloak over the couch behind him and marched Snape to his bathroom, who was now completely admiring this new turn of events. He was practically being pampered by the very boy whom destroyed the Dark Lord. Shouldn't it have been the other way around, seeing as Snape had been one of the Dark Lord's underlings?

"Potter," Snape began, which ended there by a rough shove in front of the shower. There were candles propped everywhere in the small bathroom, shadows dancing along with the white light which splayed across the walls every now and then.

"No. You're right. You're absolutely soaked to the damn flesh!" Harry threw up his hands, absolutely disgusted with himself. Snape rose two brows now, and wearing a completely see-through white collared shirt and black dress pants which accented the older male quite nicely, the young wizard had to regain his composure.

Harry shook his head and went to grabbing a towel from one of the shelves near the door, tossing it onto the stand near the shower. "Go ahead. I'll go and be right back with a change of clo-"

A hand roughly grabbed the young nineteen year old by the wrist away from the door and into the middle of the bathroom. Snape's arms wrapped themselves around Harry's waist and held tight, head bowing so that his forehead rested against the other's, black still-dripping-with-water hair falling over the both of them.

Dark eyes never leaving the boy's, he parted his lips, a whisper breathing across them. "Join me." A rumble echoed in the room.

Harry felt his knees buckle, head spinning from the close proximity that seemed to drain every strength he sent to just standing, hands finding leverage with the older wizard's elbows. "S-Snape.."

"Severus," the damn man breathed along the ridges of his earlobes, ghosting the edges of his hair. Harry was losing control, and fast. Lightning flashed.

"S-Sev'rus," he at last spoke, hardly audible even in the quiet room, emeralds glinting away from obsidians. He dare not look at Snape now. "A-are y-y-you sure? I, I mean, I uh, well, it's just…are you sure? I-"

Snape slowly pulled one arm away, raising his hand to the Gryffindor's lips, covering it gently, fingers just brushing along those delicate, lush lips, the young wizard shuddering against such softness. "Think of it as a gift, Potter-"

"Harry." Thunder boomed. Snape smirked at the boy's coy smile.

"Harry," rolling it off his tongue as if it belonged there, his and his alone to speak. With that, he claimed his prize, lowering his head down to capture that mouth, his mouth, his to own and keep.

_Mine._

Harry moaned, arms snaking themselves around the taller man's neck, fingers tangling themselves into the wet hair which had managed to shake droplets onto his cheeks and glasses which now, annoyingly, pressed cruelly into his eyes, fingers not his own reading his thoughts and ripping it clear off his face, tossing it he-didn't-give-quite-a-fuck where.

Snape broke the over-tensioned passion between them this time, finding himself incapable of holding back the grin which now splayed across his face, his defense mechanism at a lost, as usual, with this boy in his arms.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," the Potions Master spoke, baritone at its fullest reaching a peaking point in the boy's heart, and nether-regions.

Muddled and driven in ecstasy, emeralds glinting with both lust and fervency and an added effect due to another flash of white light, Harry cooed back, "Happy Christmas, Severusssssss," chuckling at his attempt at making the man's name sound snake-like, earning a small bite to his bottom lip.

A storm erupted far stronger than the one playing into the dark night skies. It was indeed, Harry thought, a Happy Christmas.

* * *

><p><strong>A~N: <strong>No. I haven't stopped my other story. However, I needed to at least do a Christmas special for the two, so here it is! Hope you all like it, and... **HAPPY CHRISTMAS**! May your days be filled with love, joy, and passion. ;]


End file.
